


Into the Flames

by cgreene



Series: Out of the Games [2]
Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Drama, F/M, Friendship, POV Katniss Everdeen, Rebellion, Romance, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-04 23:58:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5353184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cgreene/pseuds/cgreene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Fire is catching! And if we burn, you burn with us!"<br/>Having finally made it to District 13, Katniss struggles with her role as the Mockingjay and the rebellion as she learns that war just might be more horrible than the Games. The costs take their toll on her and Gale as they face heartache and turmoil and struggle to save those they love. Reviews greatly appreciated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Into the Flames" is the third part of my re-imagining of the Hunger Games Story, following "Into the Games," Suzanne Collin's first Hunger Games book, and "Into the Woods," another story I've written that replaces the events in "Catching Fire" where Katniss and Gale are forced to flee in the woods and realize their feelings for one another as they try to make it to 13. This story takes place where "Into the Woods" leaves off. Your reviews are greatly appreciated. I'd especially like to know what you all think of some of the twists that are coming, whether you saw them coming and what you thought was going to happen. Please enjoy.

"No. Wait. Stop! What are you doing to me?" Hands are grabbing me, holding me down. Faceless figures saying words I don't understand. I feel pain. "Stop. That hurts! No. Stop! NO!"

They don't stop.

They never stop.

I scream in pain until I pass out.

. . .

Bum. Bum. Bum.

That sound is either my heart beating or a machine.

Bum. Bum. Bum.

. . .

"Katniss? Hey, Katniss…"

. . .

I think I'm imagining things.

I see spiders. Hear snakes.

. . .

"No! Please, no! Stop! Don't. It hurts! It hurts! It burns!"

It always burns.

I fade out.

. . .

I'm not sure what the differences is right now.

Bum. Bum. Bum.

Between my heart and a machine.

. . .

When I'm not awake, I dream of fire.

And when I am awake, I burn.

. . .

Bum. Bum. Bum.

. . .

I always burn.

. . .

I fall out of my dream, heart wailing like an alarm, and crash into consciousness.

_Where am I? What's going on?_

Someone tries to touch me. I kick and punch and fall.

. . .

Bum. Bum. Bum.

I try to move again, but the pain is too much.

I pass out.

. . .

Bum. Bum. Bum.

The place I'm in is dark. That, or I can't see. I'm not sure which. I try to strain my eyes and focus but I can't make out anything. All I remember is fire. The white light is burned into my mind.

_Where am I? How did I get here?_

It slowly comes back to me. I remember the peacekeepers in the woods. I remember the shooting. I remember the explosion. And I remember:

"Gale! Where's Gale! What have you done to him?"

I try to move and realize I must be strapped down. I think the Capitol has gotten ahold of me. I struggle to move and writhe in pain. I think the Capitol is torturing me.

"Gale!" I shriek again and again, sobbing, "Oh my god, Gale!"

The hands force me down again, but this time I don't let my pain stop me. I fight. I rage. I fail.

. . .

Bum. Bum. Bum.

"Catnip? Hey, Catnip…"

This time I of dream of Gale. I imagine his hand caressing my face. I don't care if I wake up.

. . .

"Is she awake?"

"I think so. She's moving."

"Is she sedated?"

"No more so than normal."

"Well, why don't you go sedate her more than normal? We don't need a repeat of what happened last time."

"We need to talk to her. She needs to be more conscious for that…"

The voice sound like it's coming from underwater. I try to move, but every cell in my body splits in pain.

Why won't these voices leave me alone? I just want to go back to oblivion.

"…We'll need him for that."

"Is he available?"

"I don't think so."

"Why don't you go call for him?"

"Can't you just do it?"

"Last time I did it, she kicked me in the mouth. Nearly broke my tooth. It's somebody else's turn."

"Katniss? Hey, Katniss…"

Bum. Bum. Bum.

I hear something moving next to me. I turn my head and try to see. My eyes still won't focus. Everything is in shadows, hazy. I remember the bright white light and turn away. It's too painful. My whole body hurts.

"Easy now, try not to move too much, that'll only make it hurt more…"

"No! Stop!" I scream, "Don't touch me! Don't touch—"

Something is injected into my neck. I feel like I'm drowning.

"Hey, sleeping beauty!" I blink my eyes, trying to see, "do you feel like cooperating this time?" I think I recognize that voice. I think it's the one that's hurt me. I start to twist away, but it hurts. "How many times do I have to tell you not to do that? It just makes things worse."

"No. Please, no!" My voice trembles.

I can make out the shadow of a man sitting next to me. Things shake. Clatter. Clank. It sounds like the man is…searching? Some things sound like plastic, others metal. I imagine pills and surgical objects. He's undoubtedly here to torture me again. I start to struggle.

"Now, Katniss, stop that."

I don't listen and keep resisting. The person gets closer to me. I think I see another needle in their hand. I'm not going to let them inject me this time. I have to get away. I have to get to Gale.

"If you'd just stop fighting us, we could untie you…and talk."

"I'll never tell you anything!" I scream.

The man is now very close to me, I can almost make out his face. I fight harder and harder to get free. "Seriously, sweetheart, stop it. This is getting old."

I repeatedly blink my eyes. Is that:

"Haymitch?" The word falls out of my mouth.

I strain my eyes. The room slowly comes into focus. I'm in what appears to be some sort of medical ward. There are machines around, blinking lights, charts flashing. Lines of fluids string into me. My whole body is covered and my legs and arms are tied down. I hear the rattling again next to me and look over.

"Hey, sleeping beauty, are you ready to wake up?" That man in undoubtedly Haymitch, and he's just put something in his pocket.

"Haymitch, are you…" I squint, "are you stealing my…medicine?" I'm not sure if that's the right word.

A crooked grin fixes on his face. "Now, wipe that judgmental look off your face. It's only your pain medicine. Nothing you need to…heal. There's no alcohol allowed down here, so I have to, you know, improvise."

"Down here? Where are we?" I try to move again. "What are you doing here? And why the hell am I tied up? What's going on? What's happened to me? Where's Gale?"

"Those are all very excellent questions, Ms. Everdeen, which we will be certain to answer in due time."

This voice isn't coming from Haymitch but the tall and slender woman's who's now standing behind him.

"My name is President Coin," she says, reaching out to me. "And on behalf of everyone one here, I want to be the first to welcome you to District Thirteen. We're so happy to have you with us."

President Coin reaches down to shake my hand, which is difficult since my wrists are still tied to the bed. There is a tender look in her eyes, it's perhaps sympathetic, or concerned? She leaves before I can even get a word out.

"I…What…Wait…How…Hay?" I look to my mentor, unable to get his name out as my breath is getting caught in my throat. He's staring at me kind of cross-eyed. He either finds my present state funny or is already self-medicating. It's probably a bit of both.

"Alright, sweetheart, calm down," he says after a few moments of me sputtering and twisting in my restrains. "I'm going to untie you now, but you need to promise to stay calm." I gulp as he says this. "We have a lot to talk about." Haymitch pulls out a pocket knife and cuts through the cords holding me down.

I look up at him with expectant eyes and prepare for the worst as the names of everyone I've ever cared about come tumbling out of my mouth. He raises his hand to silence me. "Don't worry. Everyone's alive…they're all okay right now."

Those words lift what seems to be a thousand tons off my heart, but I have to go through each one to be sure.

"Gale?" My voice almost cracks as I say his name.

Haymitch smiles. "Gale's fine. Better than fine, even. I reckon you could say he's even doing swell. I think he's found his true calling, really…" Haymitch takes a seat and scoots close to me. My eyebrows arch and Haymitch understands he needs to elaborate. "Gale comes by to visit you every day. I've found him sleeping in this chair more times than I can count." He's got a crooked smile and is ignoring the question mark that must still reside on my face and I realize he is instead focused on my drip of morphling. "The effect you have on these boys, I really don't understand it, really…." Haymitch's mind seems to wonder off, but he shakes it and seems to reclaim himself quickly. "But yeah, Gale's great. He's been working, very enthusiastic about helping the rebellion…You don't mind if I…?" He gestures to my morphling drip, and before I can even respond, I hear him sigh happily as he inserts it into his wrist. "Ahhh. There now. That's it." A look of peace comes over him.

"Haymitch!" I'm so not in the mood for this.

"Ahh, right, where was I?" His eyes try and focus. "Yes, very enthusiastic, that boy, about the rebellion. And you too, of course, I can tell…" His eyes sparkle. I'm not amused. "But the rebellion! He's been a big help. He's even been promoted twice…"

_Gale? Promoted twice? What the hell is Haymitch talking about?_ I'm beginning to think Haymitch is already high. "Promoted twice? Promoted to what?"

"Sargent."

"Sargent? Gale's in the army?"

Haymitch isn't making eye contact, but he nods. "Yep," his lips smack as he says it.

"With the rebellion?"

"Mmmmhmmmm." I think the morphling's taking hold.

"In Thirteen?"

"You got it!" Haymitch points a finger at me and winks as if I've just accomplished something.

_Okay,_ I think. I guess that makes sense. My mind rakes over what Haymitch has just told me. I tremble as I try to keep it all together and I wish Gale could be here to hold me. But I guess that does make sense. Gale wanted to join the rebellion anyhow and he is a good fighter….But something is tugging at the back of my mind.

"Wait…Haymitch…How is that possible?"

His eyes suddenly clear as he looks at me. I know he's not going to give me a stupid or sarcastic answer. "Katniss," there's a gravity in his voice I don't like. "You've been unconscious for over three months."

 


	2. Chapter 2

My mind spirals and I feel like I'm falling. I watch the world swirl past me and my memories collide. I remember my dreams of torture, the fire, the burning, the pain. Watching Gale from my tree out in the woods. Fighting the peacekeepers. Shooting the assultcraft….

I'm barely aware of what Haymitch is telling me: That soldiers from Thirteen found me. They became aware of the Capitol's attack on the safe house and sent out a unit. They arrived just as Gale and I were fighting. The ship I shot apparently exploded, knocking me clear out of the tree and burning half my body. I look down at my covered arms and legs and for the first time I realize they are bandaged. I try to peel them off by Haymitch stops me.

"Don't do that now, sweetheart. I don't want to have to tie you up again." Both his voice and touch are tender. I look up at him and nod. I can feel the tears starting to fill my eyes. "We've spent a long time trying to get you all patched up…" I can't even imagine the full extent of my wounds.

Haymitch continues to tell me how Gale and the soldiers overpowered the peacekeepers and were able to rush me back to Thirteen where I began intensive recovery. Gale was commended for his efforts and asked to join the army where he's since shined. And I've since been laying here, mostly unconscious, trying to grow back significant portions of my skin, muscle, and even bone.

Now I know where all my nightmares of torture came from.

I try to stay calm as I take it all in. "Can I see Gale? Can I see him soon?" I know my voice is far less stable sounding than it seems.

"Course," Haymitch says, "I've already sent for him. They're bringing him in from the field now."

I nod and try to let that piece of information calm me. I know everything will be better once Gale is here.

. . .

"Sargent." The man standing guard at my door cuts a stiff salute and I hear heavy footsteps down the hall.

"Soldier." Another voice greets. It's controlled, commanding even, but a voice I know well.

"Gale!" He salutes the soldier and turns into my room. His commanding gaze breaks as soon as he sees me. Steely eyed, he looked at the soldier, but the second his eyes move to me, they melt.

"Oh my god, Catnip, you're awake." He nearly trips over himself as he comes to my side, falling on his knees next to my bed and burying his face next to mine. I reach to cradle his head, tangling my fingers in his hair, and pulling his lips to mine.

"Well, I guess I'll just leave you two to it then…" I am only vaguely aware of Haymitch's voice as I hear him scoot out of his chair and leave.

"I was so worried about you," he says when our lips separate. I don't know how to respond, so I only nod, but, holding his face in my hands and staring into his eyes, I see more pain reflected in him than I feel in myself.

"I'm sorry," I mutter pulling closer to me. "I'm so sorry." I kiss him again.

"It's okay," he says, taking my face in his hands, "I probably would have done something equally stupid."

I laugh, he smiles, and I think everything will be okay.

"Did Haymitch tell you everything?" Gale asks delicately.

"Yeah," I sigh with a heavy breath, looking away as I recall his account of the past several weeks I've been lying here unconscious.

"Are you okay?"

I nod weakly, bringing my eyes to his. I see they are so full of concern, and I feel bad for how much hurt I must have caused him, everything he's had to endure while I've been unconscious. I care hardly bare to think about it.

"Yeah?" he says, holding me tighter, like I need consolation. I'm about to tell him it's okay when I realize he might be the one who needs the comfort, so I hold him tighter too. We stay in each other's arms for I don't know how long, but he finally pulls his head from my chest and kisses me.

"Hold me?" I ask.

"Of course." He gently helps me move over so he can lie next to me. I press myself against his chest and cling to his arms. I can feel one of his hands swirling my scalp, and it feels nice. Lulled by the sound of his strong heart, I fall asleep.

When I wake up, I feel more peaceful and better rested than I have in ages. I don't remember what I dreamed about, but I know they were pleasant. I turn over to reach for Gale and jolt when I feel the cold bed next to me. He's not here.

"Gale?" I speak meekly, opening my eyes and looking around.

"He's not here, sweetheart." I squint and make out Haymitch sitting next to me. "You've been out for a few hours. He had to get back to work."

I nod vaguely and rub my eyes, scooting myself to sit upwards in my bed. "Why are you here, Haymitch? Are you back to steal more drugs?" I eye him accusingly. I'm really not in the mood to deal with him right now.

"Ha ha," he caws. "So tell me, what did you and pretty boy talk about?"

"What's it to you?" I spit at him. I can't imagine why it matters, and I'm annoyed he's here and not Gale.

"Didn't talk much, did ya?" He surveys me knowingly as a smile crosses his lips.

"Haymitch, why are you here?"

"I guess he didn't tell ya, did he?" He wipes his face with is hand and leans forward seriously. "We need to talk, Katniss."

I'm about to say something snide and dismissive, but there's a shadow over Haymitch that stops me.

"Okay…" I say carefully, trying to imagine what is so important. I suspect it's about my role in the rebellion and assume they probably need me to do something. And since I came here to do something, I am prepared to listen.

"We need to talk about what's happened since you left." This wasn't what I was expecting him to say.

"Since you pretended to kill me, you mean?" I counter aggressively. He doesn't need to know I've come to terms with his, Cinna's and Gale's actions.

"Yeah, that." He's adopted a no-nonsense tone that catches me off guard. Usually, I enjoy provoking Haymitch, and usually, I think enjoys it as well. I think it's how we both have fun. But this is different. So different, it almost scares me.

"Sorry, Haymitch, I know you had to do it that way and understand…"

He waves his hand dismissively. "Not important." I guess he isn't mad then and try to gauge the emotion effecting him. "There are some things you need to know." I move closer to him, respecting the severity of his tone.

"What's wrong, Haymitch?" I try not to sound too desperate and reach out to him sympathetically. But he startles and jumps backwards. I'm not sure how to interpret that.  _Is he just jittery from the drugs? Is he afraid of me?_  Whatever it is, he looks spooked, and starts going through my pill bottles again until he finds something that appeals to him. He pops the tops and shovels a handful of pills down his throat. He then shakes his head and begins.

"Things got pretty rough in District 12 since your death." Haymitch makes sloppy air quotes around that word.

"What does that mean? Is everyone okay? Is my family okay? You told me they were alive!"

"Yes," he raises his hand to silence me again, "I did..." He sighs deeply, "and they are."

I nod and feel my heart calm as he says it, preparing myself for whatever he has to tell me, though I know that as long as those I care about are alive, I can take it.


	3. Chapter 3

"The Capitol got pretty strict after you died, reduced rations, strict curfews, forced searches...it got some people thinking...seemed like the Capitol was looking for someone, and it seemed like that someone was you. Strange thing, to be looking for a dead girl. Made people think that you weren't really dead. Rumors spread. People whispered that you were still out there, planning the rebellion. Prim wouldn't shut up about you. Said she knew it all along. Knew you were out there fighting, doing the right thing…" I smile faintly as I think of my little sister. Of course she didn't believe it, she's too smart. "I had to tell her more than once to shut up about it. They started calling you the 'Mockingjay.' Believed you'd gone out in the forests and were waiting to strike. There've even been several sightings of you all over Panem, helping the rebels, hiding up in the trees of Seven, shooting flaming arrows in Three...Your image is more powerful than ever, and I'm not going to lie," he laughs bruskly, "that's helping us out nicely. It's making the people feel safer, stronger. I think Plutarch's even jealous he didn't come up with the idea himself…"

"But it's a lie...They're lying." This bothers me. It reminds me of something the Capitol would do.

"They might actually believe it, you never know. And if not, well, it's still helping us out, so we'll take it…" Haymitch shrugs. "Anyway, things had been rough. It was there that rumors of you were the strongest, the loudest...People started to organize, speak more openly about 'change,'" he makes the sloppy air quotes again and shifts uncomfortably in his chair. "The Capitol went into overdrive trying to figure out how to spin your death. They were a bit caught off guard, I think, which made Cinna and me happy. You know, sometimes it's the small pleasures in life," he chuckles and pops another pill. Haymitch's gaze is unfocused and distant. I think the drugs are beginning to take effect. "They of course didn't believe you'd really died, but they couldn't air their suspicions publically. Their initial coverage was sloppy, they didn't know what angle to play. They thought about making an example out of you, trying to squelch all the rumors, but couldn't, not after they'd spent so much time painting you as their love-sick darling. So they couldn't dismiss you and call you a stupid girl or pretend to be happy you were dead. Instead, they gave you a nice funeral, televised the whole thing…you'll be happy to know they had a lovely casket, beautiful flowers, of course, good food, all in your honor….they showed your mom, sister, and of course, Peeta, crying on camera. It was all very convincing. Snow even came," I tense thinking about that snake so near my family, "He made a great, moving speech. I think Plutarch was a little jealous he didn't come up with that one too, but he's on our side now…Snow spoke about what a great tragedy your death was, how everyone in Panem felt your loss because you were such a sweet, lovely girl…" He laughs as he says this. "But he found a way to spin it, he always does, and this spin was pretty clever…Snow said that the only consolation he could find was thinking about how your death perhaps wasn't so untimely…that maybe it was long overdue. After all, the rules upon which our great society is built demand that every year twenty four tributes go in and that only one comes out…but we'd broken those rules, we'd let two come out: You and Peeta. And that was causing, I think he said, 'unforeseen consequences,' which, of course, was an allusion to the talk of rebellion. Snow made it seem like your death was just the universe making a correction. That you were supposed to have died all along, and so you did, and how nice it was that when your death finally came, you at least gave it in service to the Capitol by going down in to the mines, working to improve production, and that had a nice ring to it, especially since there were so many shortages from other districts at that time. He said you were such an inspiration…such an inspiration…to so many people, all over Panem…" I can almost hear Snow's ominous, threatening tone as Haymitch says it like a compliment, "and he wanted to honor that inspiration…" Haymitch scratches his face and I try to brace myself, "he wanted to honor that inspiration in the next Hunger Games." My heart stops until Haymitch finishes. He stares at his feet as he continues. "Snow announced that, in memory of you and how greatly you inspired our nation by volunteering to go into the Games for your sister, that for the next Hunger Games, which are a Quarter Quell, remember, that every district would provide two volunteers so we could, now how did Snow put it, see how much of an inspiration you really were…" Haymitch finally raises his eyes to mine, and I can't quite place the look he has in them. "He said all a bit more eloquently that I just did, but you get the gist…"

I'm not sure what I'm thinking as I process all of this information. I'm filled with sickness and hate. I can practically hear Snow, his voice dripping with false concern and fake solemnity, say this, internally gleeful at what he'd done to me. I imagine thousands of families shuttering, terrified, huddling their children, and hundreds of brave men like Gale, perhaps a bit eager to volunteer, thinking they could somehow make a stand against the Capitol before they'd be killed, which they'd all be—they'd all be killed because of me. Because I'd inspired them, just like the people in Twelve, who'd also been inspired by me

"Now, don't go being too hard on yourself," Haymitch must see the horror in my eyes, "we had guys on the inside helping to plan this. Plutarch Heavensbee mostly. He's the head game maker, but we had him on our side." I nod, not sure what any of this means, "In several of the districts, we had volunteers already lined up. People who'd been involved in the rebellion, even a few fellow victors agreed to go back in, Johanna from Seven, Finnick from Four…It was part of the plan, and it was a good plan," Haymitch is laughing slightly as he says this, like he's cracking. I'm not sure what's going on. Is it all the drugs? "A damn good plan. I found a boy and a girl from Twelve, so ready to join the cause, do their part. This guy named Garrett, he'd worked with Gale in the mines, big, strong lad, ugly though, but oh well…and a girl, I don't know if you ever met her, named Iris. She's smart and focused…She would have stood a good chance. It was a good plan, Katniss, I even think you'd a been proud of me." He smiles weakly as he says this, looking at me with eyes unfocused and rubbing his scraggily jaw. "I should've seen it coming though," he shakes his head. "After spending so much time with you, I should have known..." I'm not sure where Haymitch is going with this but I brace myself for something horrible.  _Did my townspeople rebel because of this? Was it because of me? Because I inspired them?_ I shudder as I think of this, feeling sick that people might have died because of me. I can't get the image of the child's skull I'd crushed with my boot at Topaz and Boone's and suddenly imagine hundreds for them…thousands of them…all crumbling beneath my feet.

"It was a damn god plan, Katniss, you'd a been proud…" I can see him breaking. There might even be a tear in his eye.  _Twelve rebelled,_ I think,  _they rebelled because of me, and now they're dead. The Capitol came and killed them and now they're all dead…._

"Oh my god, they rebelled, didn't they? The people in Twelve rebelled because of me…." I can almost feel myself drowning in my horror.

"What? NO, no…" Haymitch seems caught off guard. "They haven't rebelled...not yet."

"Then what, Haymitch, what happened?" I look at him sympathetically. "It's okay, Haymitch, you can tell me what happened." I try to sound comforting and reach out to him, but he jerks away.

"No, Katniss, it's not."

I gulp and nod. "Just tell me what happened, Haymitch." If the rebellion hasn't broken out yet, I can't imagine what could be so bad.

"I had everything figured out, squared away…I guess that should have been my first clue, nothing ever works out that perfectly for me…" He beats his chest with a shaking, clenched fist as he says this. "Two volunteers lined up. But I guess it shouldn't have surprised me…what happened on the reaping day…" I imagine Twelve being attacked on the day of the reaping. It'd be an ideal strategy, all the people there, gathered at once. An easy target. I shudder as I image all the people engulfed in flames and hardly hear what Haymitch says next. "Yeah, I don't know why it surprised me. You women never make my life easy."  _Us women? What is he talking about?_  "After what happened last year and the way she looked up to you. Wanted to be like you, I should have seen it coming…"

"Haymitch," the images of my home town under attack fade from my mind and Haymitch's face becomes crystal clear. He is crying. "What are you talking about?"

"You sister, Katniss."

"What about her?"

"She volunteered."

"For what?" The question leaves my mouth before I can even think.

"She volunteered, Katniss." Haymitch's voice falls heavy, like a hammer to a gavel.

I imagine her helping the rebels, organizing support, rallying troops. But those images collide with Haymitch's words and I realize what he means.

"For the Games, Katniss, she volunteered for the Hunger Games."

I'm holding the edge of my bed white knuckled. If it were made of anything less that metal, it'd have already snapped.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey Catnip." My eyes flicker as I hear a familiar voice. As I open them I see my best…my Gale sitting next to him. I feel his hand gently caressing my cheek. "I'm so sorry, I thought Haymitch had told you everything..."

"Gale," I try to reach out to him and realize I'm tied down.

I then remember I'm in District 13. And that Haymitch came to see me. And told me my sister is in the Hunger Games. I think I tried to kill him.

"Prim!" I scream. I must look frantic and crazed. "Is it…is it true?" Gale face tells me I wasn't hallucinating. For a brief second, I'd hoped I had. "Oh my god." I sob and Gale holds me. "How? Why? What happened?"

"She's okay," he says after kissing my forehead, "she volunteered, but she's okay. Haymitch has got a lot of people working to take care of her, and Peeta—"

"What about Peeta?"

"Haymitch didn't tell you?" I realize I might have attacked him before the got that far. "Peeta volunteered too, Catnip."

Oh god. My heart sinks as I hear this. I don't even need to watch the video to see Peeta jump on the chance to volunteer with Prim, eager to prove himself to me. Something hurtful and heavy sticks in my throat and I'm not sure I can breathe. I don't know how I'll ever repay him for this.

"Can you…can you untie me?" I need to wipe the tears from my eyes.

"Yes, but Katniss, it's important you stay still. You're still badly wounded. You aggravated some of your injuries when you attacked Haymitch…"

. . .

I remember it like it is a drunken memory: Haymitch tells me my sister volunteered and then everything goes blurry. I throw what I can find close to me as I curse him, saying awful, awful things, but that did nothing to assuage my anger.

"How could you let this happen!?"

"Now, Katniss, calm down. This isn't my fault!"

I hurl something at him.

"She did it because she looked up to you! Because she wanted to be like you…"

"All this…Everything I ever did…All this is because I wanted to protect her! It was to keep her out of the Games!"

Something breaks.

I think I want to kill him. I lunge for him. But my body can't keep up with my rage. I remember falling, crumbling to the ground.

. . .

I look down and see my bandages are now bristled with blood. Gale gently unties me and I realize for the first time how extensive my wounds must be. I'm not sure I care, but I see concern written in Gale's eyes. "Is it…how bad is it?" I gesture looking down.

The composure in Gale's eyes flickers and I see his fear staring back at me. I suddenly feel bad for him as I imagine how he must have felt, seeing me fall burning from the tree, fighting to get to me, watching over me here, for months.

Gale's fear doesn't break into his voice. He says calmly, "You need to be careful. The doctors say you're mostly healed now, but still…delicate." He doesn't want to say the word weak.

I nod. "Tell me what happened to Prim."

"She's okay... truly," He's trying to convince me. Gale's voice is lighter and he brightens up. Gale's never been in the Games so he can believe this. I know it can't be true. "She really is. We watch everything on the T.V. And she's got Haymitch, Cinna, Peeta, so many others, all protecting her. Things are actually working out well. Really well for us…" I can't help but notice that Gale seems excited by this, perhaps too excited. _Does he not realize that she's facing almost certain death?_ "These Games are going to be different, Catnip, they're going to be very different…"

I stare blankly as I take it all in. Maybe it's because I'm drugged now, or maybe I'm just immune after all the shock I've received today. But I feel numb compared to the tornado that thundered inside of me when I first learned all this: My sister in the Games, Peeta there to protect her, probably in a stupid attempt to impress me…Gale actively and excitedly involved a rebellion…District 13 and its cool President Coin…the three months I missed lying useless in a hospital bed...

Gale prattles on, sounding hopeful and excited, about everything. I'm barely listening.

"I want to see it," I interrupt.

"What?"

"The recordings. All of them. I want to see my sister." I have to. It's the only way I can understand.

Gale nods solemnly. "Okay," he gets up, "I can arrange that." He leans in and kisses my forehead. "I'll get that for you now, okay?"

"Okay." My stare is still blank and my voice empty.

* * *

"I volunteer!"

The sound is so familiar I think it might be my own. In fact, if I didn't know better, I'd swear I was watching a video recording of the reaping from the year before in which I volunteered for my sister. But I'm not. I can tell because Effie's dress is different and she's lost the effervescence from her voice. In fact, everything about her except her outfit is dull. Her eyes aren't shining like they normally do and even her voice has lost its tinkle. This is because she's just given the Reaping speech for the Quarter Quell, which happen every twenty five years and are especially violent. One year, the doubled the number of tributes from each district and before that the districts had to vote. This year, in honor of my memory, my noble sacrifice, the Capitol is require all districts to provide volunteers.

"I volunteer!"

The crowed takes a collective gasp and everyone murmurs in horror. There is an uneasy silence. My eyes scan the audience much as the cameras do for its source. I won't believe it until I see it.

"I volunteer!" it sounds again, this time stronger, braver. The camera finds her and focuses in as she walks towards the stage.

"Ah! Great dear. Such a courageous young lady. Can you please tell us your name?" I suddenly realize Effie's never seen my sister before.

"Primrose Everdeen."

"Excuse me?"

"Primrose Everdeen."

"Ohh, well…" Effie's clearly been caught off guard. She was not expecting this. She struggles to recover. "Well…isn't this interesting."

"And now for the young gentlemen, we need—"

"I volunteer!" Peeta cuts her off. She doesn't even get to finish her spiel.

"Someone's eager." Both the camera and Effie's gaze try to find the source. But I recognize Peeta's voice.

"I volunteer as tribute!" Peeta marches confidently on stage.

"Peeta, you don't have to do this," Effie tells him, whispering out of the side of her mouth, trying not to let her smile falter.

"Yes, I do." He looks nothing like he did the year before as he says it. Then, he trembled, looked ghostly, terrified. Today, he looks unshakeable. And, surprisingly, so does Prim. As they stand together on the stage, hands clasped tightly together, looking strong, unafraid, and unforgiving. They are a force to be reckoned with. And everybody watching knows it. Including me.

Their actions set off a chain reaction. Volunteers from all the districts join up with equal zeal. They join without hesitation. Without fear. Some don't even let Effie finish her speech, or make her call. In some districts, they were already standing on the stage before the start of the reaping ceremony. I don't know if Snow feels anything, but if I were him, watching this, I'd feel afraid. I feel afraid, and I'm even on their side.

Prim in the prep for the Games is unforgiving. She deftly switches between appearing a sweet, young, sill girl and is other times a formidable advisory full of mettle in her numerous interviews and aired activities. She mentions me at every chance she gets, not letting anyone forget me or what I did, and never missing an opportunity to talk about how much I inspired her, how much I cared about them, proving her weapon is a double-edged sword of language, and that's far more powerful than my bow.

In one interview, she tells people how I taught her how to shoot. "Katniss used to show me in our yard…" I shudder as I watch it because it's a lie. Gale taught her how to shoot and I cursed him for it. She sells the story though, and then shoots an arrow deadly straight.

In another, she talks about her love of medicine, and discusses some natural remedies and herbs that might help her in the arena. "Now, this one, it can reduce a fever, and this one here," she gestures to another set of leaves, "with just a little, you relieve pain...but only a little though, because with a little too much," her voice rises sing-songingly, "then you kill." She looks up and stares straight into the camera as she says it. I shiver again.

 _What happened to my sister?_ I don't know if Haymitch, Cinna, or that man I haven't met yet named Plutarch did this, but I'm going to kill whoever's responsible. _My poor, sweet sister..._

I have to prepare myself to watch her first interview with Cesar.

"Miss Everdeen, how lovely it is to see you!"

"Thanks Cesar," she beams, dressed in soft yellow, looking like a doll. The crowd explodes, I even some tearing up at the sight of her. She looks precious, innocent…like the little girl I remember. But I'm quickly reminded she's not the girl I remember.

"You've been the talk of the Capitol for over a year now and I just want to say I'm honored to finally meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine," she says curtly.

"Well, I think I speak for everyone in saying how surprised we are that you were the first to volunteer."

"Were you surprised? Really?" Her tone is almost condescending. Cesar notices. I'm not sure if she's being brave or being stupid.

"Well, yes, I mean, considering your sister…" he tries to hit a note of solemnity.

"Yes, Katniss. She's very special." The audience confirms this.

"Yes, she was." Cesar noticeably uses the past tense. "I think I speak for us all when I say we miss her." Cesar nods and his audience collectively sighs. "Her death…a tragic accident, for sure."

"Yes, if that's what you want to call it."

"How do you mean?" He might be genuinely confused.

"Well, you know, Cesar," she giggles, "there are so many rumors..."

"Rumors?" He almost sounds intrigued.

"Yes. You won't believe what I've heard. She sounds excited, like she's telling a friend a secret, and she's managing to pull off with the look of a child who doesn't realize what she's saying.

He laughs more uncomfortably. This conversation is getting out of control. "But you're too smart to pay attention to such nonsense." Cesar is getting desperate, trying badly to diffuse the situation.

"You're right," she giggles, "I am too smart for nonsense. I just want to honor my sister and keep her memory alive."

"Sweet child. I think we can all agree to that." The audience claps. "Now tell me, Prim, if your sister were here, what do you think she'd say about you volunteering?"

"Oh, Katniss would be so proud." I'm not. "She's the reason I'm here." I am. And I hate it. "I just want to make sure people don't forget about her." The audience coos. She beams. I feel sick.

"Ahh, yes, like you said, she was very special."

"Yes," Prim agrees, "she is."

"I notice you're using the present tense there, darling, can I ask, why?"

"I'm glad you asked me, Cesar, I'm using it because even though we can't see Katniss right now, that doesn't' mean she's not still with us."

He chuckled heartily. "I didn't now you believed in ghosts in District 12." The audience laughs too.

"Well, not exactly, but I want everyone to know that Katniss is still with us...as long as we believe."

"I'm not sure I get what you mean."

"In everything she believed in, everything she stood for, of course!"

"Oh?" He looks worried.

"I'm talking about true love, Cesar." She giggles again. He sighs in relief. And the audience goes wild. "You know, Cesar, we have a special custom in District Twelve to remember people."

"Oh do you now?"

"Yes. Would you mind if I showed it to you? Shared it with you?" The crowd loves this. They want to be a part of our quaint style. Cesar has no choice but to agree.

Without blinking an eye, Prim gets up, stares directly into the camera, and makes the three fingered gesture we make back home, the one people gave to me when I volunteered for Prim, the one I used in the Games for Rue, the one the Districts use now for the rebellion. And Prim is using it now in the Capitol.

She doesn't say another word to Cesar as she marches off stage. The crowd is going wild. Cesar sighs.

"Well, those Everdeen women sure are something. Let's bring our next contestant out to the stage, everybody, our favorite victor, PEETA MELLARK!" The crowd roars as he walks out. "So, Peeta, you're back!"

He laughs heartily. "Well, I just couldn't get enough." Peeta is so good at this. And so is she.

And I'm so not. I can hardly handle it. I could hardly handle it. I remember how I felt when I was there, terrified of everything, uncertain about everything except that I needed to get home to take care of my sister. That's why I did everything I did, not because I cared about what was right or fair or good...not because I cared about some stupid rebellion...all I wanted to do was protect my baby sister and keep her this chaos.

And in doing so I only made her more aware of it and take up its cause.

The irony is not lost on me.

I crack.

I sit in front of the television and laugh and laugh and laugh. I laugh as I watch her smile and curtsey and I laugh as I watch her throw knives and brew death. I laugh when she tells people she's doing this to honor me. Because she isn't. And I laugh when she says I'd be proud of her. Because I'm not.

I laugh when Haymitch comes and finds me, tries to talk to me, shakes me, even slaps me. _As if that could hurt me._ It's all funny, so I keep laughing. _You were supposed to be on my side,_ I think, _and you let this happen to her..._

I laugh when Gale comes by, and holds my face in his hands with eyes wide with concern, perhaps honestly not understanding, and that's funny too. _You, Gale, you knew keeping her safe was the one thing I cared about, you were the one person I was supposed to be able to trust to keep this from happening, and it turns out I can't…you're probably even happy this is happening..._

It's all so damn funny.

So I laugh and laugh and laugh.


	5. Chapter 5

"Come on, Ms. Everdeen."

I don't acknowledge the voice talking to me.

"You've got to get out of bed today."

_What's the point? Not like anything matters any more…._

"Come on now, miss. We're going to move on one, two, three…"

I feel the orderly's hands grab me and try to move me, expecting me to help. I don't.

"Come now, you're going to have to help me."

_No, I don't have to do anything._

"Let's work together now."

 _I'll never help you do anything,_ I think, as I will myself to be as heavy as a stone and stay in bed.

"Come on, Ms. Everdeen, you can't stay in the bed forever."

_You wanna bet?_

"Okay…Let's try this again."

_This idiot just won't give up._

"One…two…and…three…we're moving!" He's says brightly, hopefully.

But we're not moving.

"Do you want me to kill you?" I glare at the man trying to help me. "Because I will. I'll kill you."

The man's hands fall away from me and he quickly hides them as he takes a step back, looking afraid, but his tone retains its pep. "Well…okay then…I'll just go find more help."

 _You do that,_ I think. _I'll kill them too…_

It's not long before a team of stronger looking men come in to my room.

"Get your hands off of me! I'll kill you! I'll kill you all!"

But I'm no match for them. They hold me down and inject me with something that makes my limbs go limp. I'm suddenly lifted out of my hospital bed and put into a wheel chair and sunny nurse is pushing me.

"Now, see, Ms. Everdeen, that's wasn't so bad, was it?" His voice is happy again.

"I'll still kill you," I try to say, but I can barely move my lips. _Or you can kill me…not like I care anymore._ I guess that's what they're probably going to do as the man wheels me out of the room. I don't blame them after everything I've threated to do to them the past few days.

"Well, if it isn't the queen of sunshine herself!"

Haymitch is waiting for me in the hall. _I will kill you,_ I think as I see him, my eyes narrowed. He chuckles, undoubtedly knowing what I'm thinking as I've threatened him with this already a hundred times.

"She's in a bit of a sour mood today," the nurse-man says to Haymitch.

"So it's a good day then?" He laughs again, ignoring me completely.

"I'll kill you." I mutter as I struggle to get out of my chair, but I'm too weak.

"So you keep telling me," he says dismissively as he pushes me down the hallway. After several moments of silence, he finally asks, "so, you curious about where we're going?"

"No."

"Alright then;" he's indifferent.

He finally leads me a metal door. There's a solider at the entrance who salutes Haymitch and opens the door for us. I roll my eyes as he pushes me in the room.

As he turns me in, I see a large, business type table lined with several seats, three of which are filled. The first is occupied by a man I don't recognize. He's a bit older, though he takes care of himself well, probably from the Capitol since he's a bit portly. He holds himself like he's important. Next to him is a slender, gray haired woman I know to be President Coin. And next to her is Gale. He's dressed in his solider uniform. He glances up at me furtively as I come in. I glare at them all contemptuously.

"Ms. Everdeen," the unknown man gets up and extends his hand to me. I look at it like he's initiating an unknown gesture. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Haymitch laughs. "Careful Plutarch, she might bite you."

Plutarch looks from me to Haymitch, trying to gauge if Haymitch's joking. My scowl tells him he isn't, so he sits back down.

"My name is Plutarch Heavensbee, and I'm the head Game-maker this year." He pauses to see if I react, but I don't even look up at him as my fingers twitch at the table. _I'll kill you,_ I think. "You know, Katniss, we met once before." He's trying to be friendly.

_No, I don't know, and I don't care._

"I was sitting at the table during your private training sessions, when you shot the pig. I'm the man who fell backwards," he says this jovially. I don't understand why. "You nearly got me." He laughs good naturedly.

"Too bad I didn't."

They all pretend to ignore my comment. "Thank you for joining us, Katniss," President Coin begins.

I breathe a short laugh. She says it like I had a choice.

"Let's begin, shall we?" Coin continues, organizing the papers in front of her and looking to the men to see if they are ready. She seems to think that acting as if everything is normal will make it so. _But normal and I haven't been getting along too well recently._

"Yes, I think that's a good idea," Plutarch agrees. Gale and Haymitch nod. "Okay," he continues, "we need to get started with the propos," he turns to me, explaining, "propos are propaganda segments," I don't look up or acknowledge that I care. He clears his throat, "right, well Beetee's been working hard on opening up lines of communication to get to the Districts, and he's almost ready, so that means we need to get ready too." He looks to each of us. Everyone except for me nods in agreement. "Our intelligence indicates that several of the Districts are ready to rebel," the President nods to confirm his statement, "But their disjointed, and they need our help." Everyone nods and looks serious. "I've written up a few drafts of the propos I think our best, they're included in the papers for you," he gestures to the packers in front of us. Only the President opens hers to look, "and I'd like to get moving on this early next week." His eyes dart to me as he says this. When I don't respond, he clears his throat. "How does that sound to you, Katniss?"

Everyone looks to me but I don't meet their eyes. I flip though his pages but don't read anything and then slide the documents back to him. "Seems like a fine plan," I say indifferently.

I can feel the air shift in the room as everyone takes a deep breath. "You do? Well, then, that's great!" Plutarch's voice sounds lighter, brighter. "When would you like to start filming?"

"What makes you think I'm going to help you?" I sound like he's making a preposterous assumption.

He coughs again. "Katniss, isn't that what you came here to do?"

"No." Gale looks slightly horrified but mostly disappointed as I say this. Haymitch is amused and I hear him chuckle quietly. President Coin looks concerned, though I don't know if her concern is for me or the success of her rebellion, probably the latter. And Plutarch, he looks interested. I can see him studying me, carefully watching everything I say and do. It's clear why he's the game-maker. He looks at everything like it's a puzzle he's going to figure out—including me.

"Ms. Everdeen," it's the president speaking now, "we've done a lot for you because we believed that you were here to join us."

"I never asked you to do anything for me."

"You can't really think that matters, do you?" If anyone else had said this, it would have sounded like a threat, but she states it like it was a mere fact. Her meaning is not lost on me, however.

"If you recall, Katniss," Haymitch breaks back in, "you did agree to help the rebellion."

"I never agreed to leave my sister! If I'd been there, I never would have let her-"

"And maybe that's a good thing!" Haymitch cuts in, anger cracking in his voice. "She's doing what she wants to do—she's happy, she's eager, she's willing, enthusiastic, and I can't tell you what I nice change of pace that is, truly. You should really try it sometime instead of being a constant pain in everyone's ass." He glares at me relentlessly, but then he shakes his head and his tone loses its fire. "The girl goes on and on about how proud you'd be of her."

"I'm not." I spit.

"I've gathered," Haymitch shifts and looks at me square in the eyes, "but maybe, just maybe, that's on you, and not us." He leans back having made his point.

Of course, I've thought about this—I could be proud of my sister, excited she has her own agency, happy she wants to join this fight, but I'm not. I'm not because the reason that she wants to do this is because of me, because of what she saw me do in the Games, because of who she thinks I am in the Games.

And that's all a lie.

A lie that Haymitch helped create. A lie that Thirteen wants to propagate. And a lie that Gale wants to advocate.

It's a lie I can't forgive any of them for. And a lie I can't be a part of anymore.

"Come on, Catnip, these people are with us," Gale tries to plead with me. He's been trying to plead with me a lot the past few days. I'm sick of it.

"With us?" I nearly choke on the laugh that forces itself up my throat, and the resulting noise sounds like a snarl. "Who's 'us'? There's no us. There's just me and these idiots who are trying to get my sister killed!"

"Katniss," he has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He clearly disagrees with my assessment. "That's not fair."

"So?" I can't imagine anything less important to me than what's _fair_.

"Katniss, please," Gale begins, trying to sound reasonable.

"Oh shut up, Gale." I snap at him venomously, unable to stomach another one of his "let's make the best of this," speeches, which he's been pleading to me almost daily. I think he honestly believes this will all work out—starting the rebellion, getting Prim back. And who knows? Maybe it will. I believe there's an honest chance they might get her out—these people seem to know what they're doing. But getting Prim out doesn't mean I'll get her back. Since Gale's never been in the Games, he doesn't understand—he doesn't understand that everyone who goes to the Games is destroyed whether or not they're killed. I watched a little bit of my little sister die each day as I watched the coverage of the Games—as she learned to lie, as she learned to manipulate, and, especially, as she learned to like it. Prim's already gone. And I don't care about anything anymore.

"And they're not getting her killed," Gale continues, "Prim's perfectly—"

"Don't you dare mention her name!" I scream. "Don't you dare…you traitor."

"Traitor?" It's Haymitch this time. "He's the traitor?"

"Yes! He's happy she's there!"

"I don't think happy's the right word," Gale tries to interject.

"I don't care what the right word is! You'd have probably served her up to your precious rebellion yourself if you hadn't been out in the woods distracting me—"

"Again," he inserts, this time his tone is close to dangerous, "not the right word. I'd use _helping, saving_ or _protecting,_ _guarding_ even, but _distracting?"_ He eyes me sharply, clearly annoyed. "And," he adds, though his voice waivers now, which it only does when he's saying something uncertain, "I'm pretty sure you were having a good time out there."

I know what he's trying to do—trying to gauge our relationship and see what remains between us. I've got bad news for him. Right now, it's nothing good.

I laugh at Gale. He looks both confused and hurt. "Of course you think that," I dismiss him, "you got everything you ever wanted, Gale!"

"Oh, I did?" He looks incredulous. "How?"

"You always wanted to run away in the woods! And you always wanted to be a part of the rebellion!"

"Yep, you got me, Catnip, I'm just living the dream over here." He tosses the pencil he was holding in his hand on the table.

"Yeah, this is it—living underground, working a job that nearly gets me killed every day, constantly worrying if the people I care about are okay…" he's mocking me and I know it. "I mean, what more could I possible want?"

His derisive tone only fuels me further. "I remember you said it the day before the Reaping! If you had it your way, Prim would have gone into last year's Hunger Games too!"

"So you think I want Prim there?"

"Yes!" I scream. "You'd let Prim die!" I'm losing it—I know, but I also don't care.

"If I wanted Prim dead, you know," Gale throws the pencil down he'd been holding and rubs his face in his hands for a second as he tries to compose himself, "I'd have just let her starve while you were in the Games rather than working so hard to be able to feed her and your mother, nearly killing myself working extra shifts, barely sleeping, and sacrificing resources my _own_ family could have used…"

I'm reminded that Gale cares for Prim too, but it's not enough to stop my assault. I scream at him thoughtlessly and recklessly. I scream at Haymitch and the president and Plutarch. Words and insults are falling out of my mouth and I blame them all for everything bad that's ever happened to me—the President for allowing the Capitol to continue its tyranny when Thirteen's been here all along, Plutarch for being a part of it, Haymitch for starting a rebellion that involved my sister and Gale for going along with all of it. I don't know what I'm saying when someone finally interrupts my tirade.

"I've had about enough of this," Haymitch says with a heavy seriousness I don't notice. He scoots out of his chair and walks over to me. "Katniss," he commands, "we need to have a chat, you and me."

I look up at him and am about to say something insolent when I feel him grab me by the scruff of my neck and yank me violently. "Oww!" I cry both in shock and in pain.

"Haymitch, you're hurting her!" Gale says. He's concerned, and it confuses me.

"That's kind of the point," Haymitch grunts as he easily, too easily I realize as I'm reminded of Haymitch's true strength, pushes Gale back down and forces me out of my chair and half carries me, half drags me from the room. My legs shake and struggle to hold my weight, still too weak to walk.

I fall to the floor in the hall when he releases me, feeling what will certainly turn into bruises sting around my neck. I struggle to pull myself up against the wall, holding onto a window sill for stability and look shakily and uncertainly at Haymitch recalling in horror half the things I just said.


End file.
